Remembrance
by butnotquite
Summary: Arthur has spent lifetimes looking for Guinevere. But what happens when the Queen has no recollection of the past she shared with the King?
1. Chapter 1

**-1-**

Fire, screams, metal against metal, and then a voice. That beautiful voice that always seemed to pull him out of the darkest moments of his life.

"Please," Arthur heard Guinevere beg. "Please spare us..."

A laugh interrupted Guinevere's pleas and Arthur felt his blood run cold.

"Morgana," he roared and ran toward the two women.

At the sound of his voice, Morgana movied quickly to hold Guinevere in front of her, one arm across her waist, the other holding a dagger to her neck.

"Arthur," she said silkily. "Just the person I wanted to see."

"Let her go Morgana."

"I don't think so," Morgana moved the dagger, breaking the delicate skin just above Guinevere's collarbone.

Arthur saw Guinevere close her eyes in an attempt to quell her fear.

_'Look at me, Guinevere,'_ he begged silently. _'I will save...'_

Morgana brought the dagger down and plunged into Guinevere's stomach. A smile wrought of pure malice spread across the witch's face as she twisted the knife deeper into the body of the woman who was once her serving girl.

The woman whom she thought usurped her rightful place on the throne of Camelot.

"Take a long hard look, brother," Morgana said as she drained the life away from Guinevere. "If I don't have a right to the throne, then this little nobody shall never sit on it, either."

One more twist and then Morgana pulled the dagger from Gwen's body. The maid's body fell to the floor, blood seeping from the wound inflicted by the witch.

The coldness in Arthur's veins was replaced with white, hot rage. He flew at the witch, Excalibur glinting in his hand. His swiftness took Morgana by surprise and she stumbled against the tattered hem of her skirt.

Arthur took advantage of this and rushed at Morgana, a parry, a duck at a haphazardly thrown spell, and he had Morgana on the ground, Excalibur now pointed at her throat.

"Go ahead," a maniacal glint was in Morgana's eyes as she spoke. "But remember Arthur, no amount of magic-of love," Morgana sneered the word. "Will ever bring back your poor, dead. Gui..."

The rest of Morgana's words were cut off as Arthur thrust Excalibur in her throat. He saw the blood froth at her mouth and he stared at her face until he saw the last of life drain from it. it was only when he was sure that she was dead did he drop his sword and rush to the other woman who was lying on the floor.

Excalibur clattered to the ground as Arthur took Guinevere's body in his arms. Her breathing was shallow and he could see that every breath caused her great pain. Helplessness flooded Arthur as he gathered her close to him.

"Help us!" He called out. "Guards!" He called again. He was deaf to the sounds of metal hitting metal and the screams of soldiers and warriors battling each other.

"Arthur," Guinevere whispered and Arthur wept at the sound of her voice. Already he knew that it was too late for her; she was bleeding to death. Her dress, once the color of lavender that he had come to associate with her, was now a deep maroon with her blood.

"...Love," she said weakly, her voice breaking with the effort to say the word.

"Please don't leave me," he begged as he pressed a small kiss on her forehead. "Guinevere, I love you. Please, I beg you don't leave me."

She looked into his eyes as he spoke, but she was too weak to say anything. With what strength she had left, she turned her face into Arthur's body, staying as close as she could to the man she loved more than herself.

"Please, please, please," Arthur said softly. All will to fight left him; he kept his focus entirely on the woman who was slowly slipping away from this life, from his life, forever.

And then she was still. Arthur became aware that her breathing had stopped, and that her hand had grown limp. He moved her slowly, dreading what he would see if he looked into her beautiful face.

She looked peaceful; her brow unmarred by pain, by the last horrible moments of her life.

"No," the word was a harsh groan ripped from Arthur's chest. "Guinevere, no. You cannot leave me here, my love."

He pressed a desperate kiss to her lips, hoping that his love would flood her body with life, that she would grow warm once again.

"No, no," he wept. "No! Come back to me, Guinevere..."

"Arthur," a voice broke into Arthur's consciousness. A male voice.

"Arthur!" It was more urgent now. "Arthur wake up!"

Merlin.

"Guinevere!" Arthur sat bolt upright in bed, his fingers grasping at his love's phantom body, his mind still full of the images of her death.

"The nightmare again?" Merlin's voice broke into his reverie and Arthur looked up to see his friend looking at him with concerned eyes.

Arthur nodded. The same nightmare of Guinevere dying in his arms. The same nightmare that has plagued him for lifetimes.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked, concern plain in his voice. he was dressed in hospital scrubs, obviously having just gotten home from work.

Arthur nodded.

"Go to bed, Merlin," he said, not wanting speak about what just happened.

The other man nodded and moved to the door.

"Arthur," he said. "We will find her again."

Arthur looked at Merlin and his mouth twisted at the words the wizard spoke.

"We will find Gwen again," Merlin said in a much firmer tone. "We will find the Queen again."

Arthur stared at the door long after Merlin closed it behind him. How long have they been telling each other that? How long have they promised that they would find Guinevere?

_'Far, far too long,'_ Arthur thought. He had lived countless lives, became a great ruler in every one, all without Guinevere. He had remembered every lifetime, and in each of them, he had looked for the woman who sacrificed herself so that he could conquer his greatest foe.

In all but one of his lifetimes, Arthur lived without the one person who would complete him. In all his lifetimes, he was plagued by nightmares of the last time he held her. Arthur lived for centuries with his heartbreak and the guilt from knowing that he couldn't save the woman he loved.

Arthur made his way to the bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Tiredness was etched on his face, not because of the sleepless nights-god knows he has had way too many of those to count-but because he was weary. Weary of living alone, tired of being without Guinevere.

"Guinevere," Arthur whispered. "Where are you, my love?"


	2. Chapter 2

**-2-**

Arthur made his way to the kitchen and sat at the table. He left the lights off and settled in the darkness of the room, his thoughts still filled with the images and remembrances of the woman whose shadow followed him throughout the ages. He thought that he saw glimpses of her in his lifetimes, but it seemed that she would disappear from as sight as soon as he turned his head.

Guinevere's absence from his life had worn on him slowly. The first few reincarnations, he had been full of hope, confident in his faith that fate and destiny would bring them together once more. But as he lived on, and as he began to realize that he was going to be alone in each lifetime, he saw very little reason be enthusiastic about his reincarnation.

He sat there for a while, willing himself not to think about his nightmare, when Merlin suddenly burst into the room and called his attention.

"I need to be at the hospital," he said. All traces of fatigue were gone now; Merlin was alert and awake—on emergency mode, was how he had often referred to it.

"What's wrong?" Arthur moved to the sink to wash his hands.

"Five car pile-up," Merlin was picking up the backpack that held all his medical equipment. His movements were swift and efficient. Arthur's were the same. He had lived with Merlin long enough to know when to be alert when there was an emergency at the hospital.

Their fields of expertise were worlds apart: Merlin was an emergency room doctor, Arthur was heir to his father's financial empire (not much of a change there)—but Arthur they had often come to each other's aid when the need arose. Arthur gave Merlin a ride to or from work and Merlin was Arthur's sounding board when things became too hectic at work.

"Serious?" Arthur asked, already dreading the answer.

"Three casualties, one of them a minor."

"I'll drive you."

The journey to the hospital was tense. Merlin was understandably anxious about how much it was going to take to get to the emergency room, and Arthur was hoping that there would be no other fatalities reported once they got there.

They make it to the hospital in record time.

"Thanks for the ride," Merlin said as he shouldered his pack. "This will go on for hours so you can leave if you want."

Arthur nodded but made his way to the parking lot. After parking the car, he got out and made his way to the cafeteria. Hopefully, bad coffee will distract him from thinking about his dream.

He sat in the mostly-empty cafeteria, looking at people as they ate; seeing harried doctors, nurses, and all forms of medical personnel come and leave. A young mother came in with a small child and he watched as the boy regale his mom with a story that had him waving his arms in the air.

His thoughts drifted again to Guinevere and, once more, he felt the all-too familiar ache of her absence. He smiled ruefully to himself; he should be used to it by now, her not being with him, but it was the same day after day. For all of Arthur's success, and it was considerable, he felt hollow inside. The need to have Guinevere by his side was more than just physical; if he let it, he was sure that it would drive him into madness.

Prior to his reawakening in this lifetime, Arthur never wanted for company. Being the heir to the Pendragon fortune meant that people willingly flocked to his side. His father's name—and Arthur was sure to make that distinction because he wasn't altogether sure he deserved recognition for being born into his family—opened doors. But even then, every smile felt hollow, ever accolade felt fake, and every woman he went out with was soon given an "it isn't you, it's me" speech.

He never lied. It wasn't their fault. He made sure to attempt to pursue romantic relationships with women who were intelligent, clever, and successful, but nothing ever went beyond a third date. He tried rationalizing: she wore the wrong shade of red, she wasn't tall enough, she graduated from the wrong school; silly, superficial things that would have been overlooked had he been serious enough about his paramours. But he had never been serious-about any of them.

Arthur met Merlin after he had come into the emergency room sporting a rather painful dislocated shoulder. He had been driving on the freeway when a mixed exit caused him to slam into a concrete barrier. Thankfully, it was in the early morning and traffic was light. He had received a citation, a massive fine, and a trip to the ER because his car had slammed driver-side first into the dividing barrier.

A traffic enforcer had driven him to the ER and it was there he met the pale and lanky doctor with whom he felt a kinship, like he was someone he had met many, many years ago, but whose name he had forgotten. The moment Merlin wrenched his shoulder back into place, it was as if something in his memory clicked together as well. He looked into the face of his old friend and in his mind's eye, saw that dreadful day when Guinevere died in his arms.

"Have you found her yet?" It was the first question he had asked of his one-time servant.

Merlin shook his head, and once again, Arthur felt like he was falling into a deep hole. How long was he going to live without Guinevere by his side?

Arthur put his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. What sin had he committed that he was punished with living without her?

"Arthur!" Merlin's breathless voice was suddenly calling his attention and he looked up to see that his friend was sitting across the table from him.

"What's wrong?" Arthur's brow furrowed. "Have there been more injuries?"

Merlin shook his head vigorously.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"You'll understand later," Merlin stood up and made his way to the door of the cafeteria. "Follow me."

Arthur made a face but made his way out the door. He passed the table of the young mother and her child, and the boy looked up at him to give him a dessert smeared smile. He returned the grin, making the boy giggle with glee.

One-time king and sorcerer made their way through hospital corridors with Merlin being stopped every so often by nurses and staffers who gave him progress reports in various patients. Quite a few goggled when they saw the person walking with him, but Arthur kept his head down and his hands in his pockets. He had little patience with oglers.

They turned another corner and Arthur realized that they were in the hallway that led to a less busy section of the hospital emergency room. Merlin looked at Arthur and put a finger to his lips, motioning that the other man keep quiet. Arthur nodded; he was puzzled. What exactly did Merlin want him to see? He was about to open his mouth to ask the question when Merlin shook his head and pointed to a section of the room that wasn't quite hidden by a dividing screen.

One of Merlin's fellow doctors was seated in a chair, talking to a person who kept on being obscured by passing hospital personnel. Arthur saw glimpses of the patient: small sneaker-shod feet, a leather handbag placed on the floor by a hand, the same hand gesturing to a place just above her abdomen, indicating the part where she was—presumably—hurt. But then the traffic of people cleared and Arthur saw the person speaking to the doctor.

His breath caught in his throat and everything around him seemed to melt into nothingness

Long, dark, curly hair spilled over a bronze shoulder, high cheekbones dusted with freckles, lush lips that formed words he couldn't hear, hands that were impossibly delicate.

"Guinevere," Arthur whispered her name as his world tilted at the sight of his love.

He took a step forward, wanting to hold her in his arms again. Just a few hours ago, he was haunted by visions of her death, but now, here, she was alive and breathing.

Merlin shot a hand out and stopped him before he could move any closer.

"She doesn't know you, Arthur," Merlin said in a low voice.

"She will," Arthur's tone was determined. "You will make her remember. Hell, I will make her remember."

Merlin shook his head.

"I was the first attending. I spoke the spell as I was examining her and there was no effect, she just looked at me and asked what language I was speaking."

The wizard looked into his friend's uncomprehending face.

"If this was Guinevere, the spell would have worked on her," he said carefully. "She looks like Guinevere, but I don't think..."

"Stop."

Merlin was silenced by the ferocity of Arthur's tone.

"I was reborn into every lifetime looking how I did in the one before," he spoke with a controlled anger that made Merlin take a step back. "The knights we found were also born looking the same."

Arthur's eyes bore into Merlin's.

"She is Guinevere," Arthur turned and looked at the woman who was now left by herself in the corner of the emergency room. "There is no reason why she is not my Guinevere."

Merlin stayed silent and after a while made his way into the larger room. He inclined his head and motioned Arthur to follow. Merlin stopped in front of the woman—in front of Guinevere—took the seat in front of her.

"Hello," she said in a soft voice, looking at Merlin and at Arthur who hovered a couple of feet behind the doctor.

"I'm sorry to have left so abruptly," Merlin said with a smile. "I'm afraid it's been a busy night for us."

"I understand, doctor," she nodded.

"I'm sorry, I never asked your name," Merlin stretched out a hand to introduce himself. "Merlin Emrys."

The woman nodded and took the proffered hand.

"Gwen Smith."

"Gwen?" Arthur croaked.

"Yes, Gwen," she said and her brow furrowed. "Are you a doctor, too?"

"Arthur..."

"Pendragon," she said. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere."

"What brings you here, Ms. Smith?" Merlin asked, breaking the staring contest between Arthur and Gwen.

Gwen ducked head before looking up again at the young doctor.

"I woke up with a sharp pain in my stomach," she said softly. "Like I had been...well, stabbed is the only way I can describe it. I went to look in the mirror and I saw this."

She pulled up the hem of her t-shirt and showed Merlin the edges of a large bruise that spanned her stomach. It would not have been unusual had it not been the color of blood.

"That's...impressive." Merlin said.

Gwen readjusted her shirt and sat back to look at the doctor.

"I don't understand how I could have gotten it," she said, her voice agitated. "And why is it that color?"

"Have do you done any heavy lifting in the last 24 hours? Did you bump into anything?"

She shook her head at his questions.

"Does it hurt?" Arthur asked softly. He was sure his face was pale. From what he could see of the bruise, it was the exact shape of the blood that stained her dress on the night of her death.

Gwen looked at him again, this time a frown marring her features.

"No," she said slowly. "It hurt when I woke up, but not anymore. And, no, I haven't coughed up...or anything bloody."

She had averted her eyes from Arthur and was now looking at the floor.

"Hmmm," Merlin said as he looked over the notes he made on her chart.

"Do you have any idea what this is, Dr. Emrys?" Her voice was soft, scared, and Arthur fought the urge to take her in his arms and soothe away her worries.

"It's an interesting bruise," he said as he peered into her face and saw the concern there. "But what worries me is that you don't know what caused it."

He closed her file and called for a nurse.

"We'll have to admit you for a couple of days, Ms. Smith. We need to make sure that this isn't a symptom of something more serious."

Guinevere nods and worries her lower lip.

"Is there someone you need to call to let them know where you are?" Merlin asked gently. "A parent, a spouse, a friend?"

She shakes her head.

"My brother," she says softly. "But he's serving overseas in the armed forces."

Merlin nods and looked up to see Arthur staring at Gwen. He sees the look on the once-king's face, love and wonder were there, but also joy. He looked at Gwen. She looked exactly like the young maid who had befriended him ages ago, but was she the Once and Future Queen?


End file.
